


Oblivion

by L122ytorch



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abandonment, Hurt, Loss, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch
Summary: Lex shuts Clark out completely.





	Oblivion

Clark’s large fist pounded frantically against the massive wooden door to the Luthor castle. His heart beat wildly in his chest and he took in massive gulps of air, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. 

Finally, the door lurched open, but it wasn’t Lex who’d answered it. “Mr. Kent,” the butler regarded him cooly. “Is Lex here?” he blurted out. “I need to see him.” The butler took a deep breath as if to steady himself and Clark braced for the rehearsed answer that was coming. 

“Mr. Luthor is occupied, and he will remain so indefinitely.” 

Clark fought to keep tears at bay, despite the persistent stinging behind his eyes. His throat went painfully dry but he still croaked out the next few words. “Please Hemmel, I need to see him,” his voice cracked. 

“I have been instructed to turn you away Mr. Kent. Today. Tomorrow. Indefinitely.”

Kent steeled his jaw, feeling bones pop beneath his cheeks. “I take it he’s not taking messages from me either?” 

“You are correct in that assumption,” Hemmel replied emotionlessly before something else flickered in his eyes. “I…I am truly sorry Mr. Kent, I can see that…you are rather distressed,” and with that he backed up and closed the door. 

Distressed was an understatement. Dots danced in Clark’s peripherial vision as his mind oscillated between fury and terror. Lex was the one who fucked it up this time. He was the one who texted things…sexy things…to Clark. And now he was running away like a fucking coward. That’s who runs away, cowards. The inconsiderate. The ruthless.

Lex had his moments, his father was certainly ruthless, but Lex? Clark had always fought to see the best in his friend. They’d maintained their friendship, Clark even went to his and Lana’s wedding. Their friendship was strained for sure…Lex knew every button of Clark’s and visa versa, but they still talked. Especially since Clark moved to Metropolis…he had nobody. With his secrets, his general distrust of others and not knowing a soul there, the transition was impossibly difficult.

Most nights saw cereal or Ramen noodles for dinner. He took to exploring the city when he wasn’t busy studying or working. And although Metropolis was a bustling metropolis, no one knew him and he knew no one.

He was too playful for his own good, he knew that. Lex was playful too. Clark only considered the sexually laden messages as playful but he knew the next day that Lex would run away forever. Cut out of his life, left like he never had a place in it to begin with. 

Clark let his wide hands splay out on the wood, leaning his head against it in an effort not to cry. He and Lex were on opposite ends of the spectrum, often at odds, but Clark, for some reason, always thought that Lex would be a part of his life.

Now he’d pulled away, leaving Clark in the starless, black wrapped night. The silence was deafening. A break from talking wasn’t a bad idea…but this? Being cut out? He messaged Lex again…and again…and again…and when the realization struck that his number had been blocked, he could almost hear the edges of his heart tearing, feel it crumble inside him, like he was an apple that someone had suddenly and brutally cored. 

He could break in, he could fly to the fucking balcony, he could x-ray the building and spend the rest of his life watching Lex, but…but he turned and plodded down the expansive drive. He remembered that first day that Lex hit him with his Porsche and suddenly wished that he was human, that he would have died from it. 

The sudden death wish wasn’t nearly as startling as the revelation that it was in no way startling. Clark wanted to sink into the earth, dig a pit and pull the grass over him like a blanket. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and he wondered why he should be punished for something that wasn’t his fault. 

With a rueful glare he glanced back at the mansion. It sat eerily quiet and still in the early winter night. Clark loved Lex but accepted that he would only have his friendship. He could be better. He promised to be better, not to be playful. Lex didn’t care. It didn’t matter. 

Suddenly Clark felt incredibly foolish. Foolish for thinking that Lex had ever even considered him a friend. Lex had everything. Clark was nothing. Had nothing to offer but silly stories about how his days went. The sad thing is that those kept him sane. Every time Lex’s name flashed across his phone, he felt relieved, grateful, less alone. 

Now he was alone.

The darkness swallowed him up, the silence suffocated him. What now? Go back to Metropolis? To an empty home to an empty phone, to a Lex now deaf to any plea or cry for help from him. He knew that Lex had killed before, taken lives, done unethical things, but this seemed the most heinous. Lex had to know…had to know that he was like a lifeline to Clark. That turning him away wrenched Clark’s heart to a breaking point.

He cried all the way back to Metropolis, pacing around his apartment, attempting to work out but failing. Attempting to eat dinner but failing. The tiny apartment felt monstrously large and eerily empty. No more Lex. He doubled over in front of his sofa, bracing his knees in the circle of his arms, gripping so hard that it’d have drawn blood from a normal human. 

He hurt badly on the inside and wanted to pull it outside. He wanted blood, wanted to etch scars on his flesh with kryptonite. He wanted drugs, red K, anything to get outside of himself. His skin felt too tight, his skeleton a cage he couldn’t escape. He wanted to sleep, to scream, to break down Lex’s door and clock him hard enough to break bone. But Lex would never hurt, never hurt like this, and that’s what hurt the most. Made Clark feel impossibly more alone, the knowledge that he alone was hurting. That Lex didn’t care, that Lex didn’t hurt. As untouchable and unbreakable as Clark’s body was, that’s how untouchable Lex’s soul was. And bitterly, Clark wished he was as hard as steel on the inside. He was close it…never trusting other people, always reading people, looking for ulterior motives, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Lex would even hold his friendship with Clark up as ransom sometimes. Threaten to disappear as a bargaining chip in arguments. Told Clark they weren’t friends. Used whatever was at his disposal to strategically aim crippling verbal punches at him. And still…still…even if Clark were human, even if he could die, he would’ve taken a bullet, a dozen bullets for Lex. 

He didn’t get off the floor for two hours. Told his boss he was sick and would be out for a few days. 

Going to the mansion hadn’t worked, messaging Lex hadn’t worked, emailing Lex hadn’t worked. Why was he the one begging for forgiveness? Asking for redemption? Lex was human, he’d made a human mistake, but to turn tail and run from Clark especially when Clark promised to be better? Overreaction. Selfish. Painful. Clark seriously doubted he’d sleep for the next month. God, who would he talk to? Was he that out of line for asking for an apology after being toyed with? Lex had even used that word… “toyed,” he “toyed” with Clark and it made Clark want to vomit. 

How could someone he talked to almost daily for close to ten years use him as a toy and then cut him off? He’d rather be a toy than sit on the shelf alone, collecting dust, drowning in oblivion. Did he really mean that little to Lex? Nothing? He meant nothing to Lex? Not enough to be a friend. Not enough to hear about his days? Not enough to be anything. Cast away like trash, discarded. Worthlessness crashed into Clark’s heaving chest until black dots danced at the edges of his vision. 

The kryptonite was looking like a better and better idea.


End file.
